


Fancy Meeting You Here

by AutumnHobbit



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Titans (2018)
Genre: AU: If Titans Wound Up The Way I Wish, Gen, in which the Titans barely feature bc I care more about Dick and Jason, jason todd week, this is the dumbest crackiest most pointless thing i’ve ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 15:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnHobbit/pseuds/AutumnHobbit
Summary: Day 2 (Aug 10th): Jason taken in by another dc character & Dream Team____aka, if Titans!Jason was the Red Hood instead of Robin.





	Fancy Meeting You Here

**Author's Note:**

> idek man. I’m mad that the casting for Titans is good but the trailer looks awful. I’m down with Brenton Thwaites!Dick and I like the idea of him big-brothering all the Titans. So. Uh. Here’s a cruddy one-shot. Half-assing my way through Jason Todd week because work is, uh, work.

Dick’s day fell apart pretty much right from the start.

He slept through his alarm and didn’t wake up and check his phone until six-thirty. Upon seeing the time he vaulted off his bed and rammed into the opposite wall with his shoulder and put a noticeable dent in the plaster. He scrambled to grab his uniform from where he’d dumped it on the floor last night in his haste to change before running off with the kids, who’d broken out of their protective custody right under Dave’s nose to go chase a lead without telling him. As he hopped around trying to get one foot in the leg of his pants, he checked notifications. A no-doubt angry voicemail from Babs. Dozens of texts from the kids, mostly Raven. And a bunch from a clearly-worried/pissed Amy. 

Groaning, he shoved the phone into his back pocket and tucked his shirt in haphazardly, thrusting his feet in his boots without socks and grabbing the contents of his nightstand as he ran for the car.

A mad drive and a bunch of angry honking and near-missed accidents later, he spun tires squealing into the station parking lot and slammed his car door behind him. He took the steps three at a time and a couple of municipals going down veered away like he was a leper. 

Amy was leaned against the wall of a cubicle, drumming her fingertips against her upper arm with a scowl when he found her. She decidedly did not look at him as he came up.

“I’m really sorry, Amy, it was a late night last night, and—-“

“I’m sure.” She said stonily, nodding at the interrogation room where the teens were all awkwardly huddled under the eye of Detective Mercer, who looked to be giving them a royal ass-chewing. 

“Nobody’s hurt, right?” He asked worriedly, drawing closer to the glass. 

“Not beyond abrasions and bruises. Miraculously.” Amy sounded angry. “They went after a meta that’s killed many a cop in this damn city and it wasn’t even the right one. We’re no closer to finding the killer and they’re  _ certainly _ not.”

Raven flinched at something Mercer said, and Dick had to clench his fist and try not to overreact. 

“They’re  _ your _ responsibility, Grayson.” Amy cracked the words like a whip from behind him. “You said you’d watch out for them for the department. You’ve  _ got _ to convince them to stop running off before we get into even more trouble than we already are.” 

“I’ve  _ tried _ , Amy!” Dick huffed. “In my defense, I don’t think they’re exactly keen on the idea of foster care, and I can’t say I blame them. If Gotham’s is a shithole, I’m willing to bet Bludhaven’s is worse.” 

“Either they’re in police custody or in foster care, Dick.” Amy threw her hands half way up in a frustrated shrug. “Even if you wanted to, you can’t just adopt all of them! You’re not qualified and you know it.”  

“I’m  _ not adopting _ them, okay?” He half-growled.  _ I’ve seen how well _ that  _ works out, _ he thought in disgust, shaking his head to clear it and refocus on the kids. Mercer had one fist on the table by now and was lowering a pointed finger at the startled group of teens when the alarm started blaring. 

Dick’s head whipped behind him even as the kids’ whipped up towards the flashing lights. “What is it?” He called back at Amy, who was checking the dispatch.

“Mass shooting,” she said. “Mob, not civilians. And a suspect still at the scene.”

The door to the interrogation room slammed open and Mercer stalked out at top speed. “Everybody out in three!”

“ _ —What about them!?” _ Dick demanded in frustration, gesturing back at the kids, who were stacked in the doorway and watching the proceedings wide-eyed.

“Oh,  _ fucking—- _ “ Mercer growled. “Bring them all along!” He stalked off again before pausing and spinning to yell, “but they’re in  _ your car, _ Grayson!” before continuing on his merry way.

Dick huffed his breath out through his teeth. Amy rammed into him with her shoulder as she passed. He blinked narrowed eyes flatly and turned to shepherd the kids out the door toward his squad car and make sure they all had their jackets (and shoes) on first. 

Ten minutes of speeding through traffic amidst cheers from Gar and Dove later, Dick pulled to a stop in the loose “formation” the others had formed surrounding the warehouse. He got out of the car, counted while all the kids clambered out, slammed the door behind Raven as she climbed out with Gar in her arms as a green squirrel, and locked it before drawing his pistol from his holster and leading the way as they headed inside. 

The floor in the abandoned factory was splattered with neon paint from a veritable minefield of broken paint cans lying on the concrete, a mountain of more of them tumbled precariously in a pile at the end of a huge shelf. In the paint lay dozens of shredded bodies, and Dick flinched at the gasps from behind him. Just his damn luck that it would be one of  _ those _ mass-murders today. He flicked his safety off and headed further in, noting Mercer and Amy along with the rest of the precinct securing the building and making their way ahead.

Dusty machinery formed a sort of alleyway down the building and their groups merged into a huddled mass of people, everyone wielding a gun besides the kids, who wound up in an awkward pocket in the center of all the cops, shuffling their way along by necessity. Gar scrambled up on Raven’s shoulder and began gnoshing on her shirtsleeve.

The machines gave way to an open section up ahead. Dick crept forward alongside Amy and Mercer and nodded at them to take the front. They nodded back and stopped and he slipped in front of them, pistol leveled and at the ready. 

More bodies littered the floor as he went, and he felt his heart pounding in his neck as he quietly set one foot down, and then the next, until he was out into the open of the warehouse.

Then his eyes were drawn to something just below the ceiling and he plowed to a halt, dropping his aim and roaring “Oh  _ for the love of—!” _ before he could stop himself. Amy bumped into his back, then froze, gaping. He could hear the kids bursting into disbelieving screeches behind him. 

More bodies on the floor. Right, big shock. More of that neon-colored paint, too. And dangling from one foot on a crane hook just ten feet below the ceiling, splattered in neon-colored paint, arms hanging limply at length as he slowly spun around, was the Red Hood. 

His head lifted slightly, tipped towards the cops. “Oh. Hi.” The metallic voice said brightly. He waved a hand with a flap.

Dick heard at least six clicks of a round being chambered, and leapt forward at top speed, pushing guns down as fast as he could and running the length of the group, putting himself between them and their target. “No, no,  _ NO!”  _ He yelled at the top of his lungs, glaring at a bunch of the newbies. Particularly Dave. Screw Dave. So what if he was still mad over last night. Dave’s hand actually shook as he very slowly dipped his gun down, looking as though someone had slapped his mother. The kids were staring. Amy was staring. Mercer was staring. Gar spontaneously turned back into a human on Raven’s shoulder and she tipped over from the sudden weight with a terrific crash and a squeak from Gar. 

“If you  _ shoot him, _ then we don’t get  _ any answers _ as to what the hell happened here!”  _ Hell _ , he worked with a bunch of  _ toddlers _ . The response was a bunch of dumbfounded blinking. He turned and addressed the figure dangling from the ceiling. “Ahem. What happened?” 

Hood’s head drew back very slightly but quickly at his tone. It was overly-sweet and laced with murder. “Uhhhhhhh—“

Poetry, as usual from Jay. Gritting his teeth, Dick twitched his chin towards the cops behind him and tapped at his watch with one finger. 

“Well, uh, it was the funniest thing,” Jason finally said, arms dangling below his head again. “I was minding my own business taking a nap after getting back from my bi-weekly manicure when the Angel of the Lord appeared to me in the form of George Washington.”

_ “That’s it,”  _ Dick seethed, raising his gun again.

“HEY, I mean—“ was as far as Jason got, hands halfway up in a placating gesture, before Dick shot the chain above him and he toppled from the ceiling.

“Gar!” He yelled behind him, and the boy scrambled up using Raven’s face as a hand-plant, transforming into a buzzard halfway up and flying toward the plummeting shape who was screaming the whole way down. Gar snatched him in large claws and deposited him safely on the floor in a heap, at which point he (mostly) stopped screaming and uncurled slowly, awkwardly glancing up at the glaring face above him. 

“I’ll have you know buzzards are very triggering to previously-dead people.” He said, in a slightly-shaky deadpan. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” 

“Get up,” Dick growled, seizing him under the arm and hauling him roughly to his feet.

“Shit, man.” Hood said, overly-shocked. “You  _ have _ gone all dark, haven’t you? This is  _ hysterical _ .”

Mercer gestured with his gun between them—-Dick ground his teeth because  _ did no one pass firearms safety. _ “You two know each other?” He asked suspiciously.

Jason seized the barrel of his gun and slowly, deliberately pointed it away from any people as he responded, “We’re old... friends.”

“—Enemies.” Dick said at the same time. 

Jason did a double-take.  _ “What.” _ He said, dumbfounded. “ _ Now _ we’re playing along with the whole enemies thing?”

“We’re not having this discussion right now,” Dick gritted.

“I wanna hear it!” Amy called from behind the kids. Dick side-eyed her flatly. 

“Yeah, let’s have it out right now, Officer Wedgie!” Jason sneered, tipping his head mockingly in the helmet. 

“Uh, no. I’m taking you in,” Dick said flatly, grabbing a handful of Jason’s jacket at the shoulder. 

“On what charge?” The Bugs Bunny accent  _ had _ to be intentional, Dick fumed. “Suspicion of at minimum thirty counts of murder,” he replied smartly.

“Oh sure, just cause a guy’s wearing a leather jacket and has a red helmet, haul him right off to jail. Rightio.” Jason monologued, and Dick could feel his blood pressure spiking. “Fine. Trespassing.”

“Does that really warrant an arrest? What about my Miranda rights?” Jason demanded.

“Illegal weapon possession.”

“I’m unarmed!”

“I find that incredibly hard to believe.”

“Well, if you really want to strip-search me  _ that _ badly—-“

“RESISTING ARREST,” Dick yanked Jason off his feet and pulled him along as he stalked off back to his squad car.

“Dick—“ Amy started to protest indignantly, no doubt glancing around and realizing she’d get stuck with the kids, but Dick whipped his head back and said, “I’ll deal with him. Unless  _ you _ want to drive him?” It was a low blow, but he was desperate. And it was vaguely satisfying to see Amy blanch and begin herding teenagers. 

He shoved Jason into the backseat of his car and slammed the door before hopping in himself and revving the engine, taking off in the opposite direction of the station. When they were out of sight of the warehouse, he let out a breath and glared back at Jason. “What the hell was  _ that _ ?”

Jason, infuriatingly, shrugged. “What did it look like? The mob was being assholes—as usual. I did what I do, as usual. They’re dead and none of your cops are. You’re welcome.”

Dick resisted the urge to slam his head against the steering wheel. “Damnit, Jason—“

“What  _ I’d _ like to know is what’s up with you. I know you and B had a fight, but you’re acting more like me than I do anymore.” Dick tightened his fingers on the steering wheel, and Jason went on. “As much as I enjoy watching you squirm and suffer, it is a tad bit disconcerting? It’s like when you’re stuck in line at the grocery listening to some mom scarring her kids for life while you’re just trying to buy a single bottle of Mrs. Butterworth. You feel like you should do something, but what? Punching her would be counterintuitive and wrong, but not much else would get her attention.”

“I cannot believe we’re having this conversation.” Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why haven’t you taken that stupid helmet off.”

“Unless you’ve disabled it, there’s security everywhere, jackass.” Jason threw himself back against the seat, arms crossed over his chest sulkily. “And unless you were intending to just let me go, I still have an imminent and daring escape to plan.”

“I’m not turning you in.” Dick sighed in disgust.

“Right. I would snitch on you in 2.5 seconds.”

“Are you disagreeing?” 

“No.” 

“Right.” Dick grunted. He pulled to a stop at a red light. “What’s your fancy, wreck the car or break out at the station?”

“Neither,” Jason said brightly, and jabbed him through the bars with a miniature tazer.

“ _ Why you— _ “ Dick half-yelled, but didn’t get the chance to say anything more before Jason kicked the back door completely off and bolted out across traffic, just the faintest “later, bro!” carrying behind him.

“Fuck,” Dick hissed a moment later when his vision had stopped buzzing, lightly touching his ribs where Jason had got him. It wasn’t set high enough to knock him out, but judging by the smell of burnt cloth and the heat coming off it, it’d leave a mark. Good in a way. He’d have an excuse to say Jason had gotten out by force. 

Although he’d have to come up with a good reason why he hadn’t cuffed him. Shit. 

 

___

 

When he got done at the station—which the kids were conspicuously absent from—he headed home, and somehow wasn’t surprised to find all of them lounging around his cramped living room. Watching Scooby Doo. 

He was somehow even less surprised to see Jason sitting precariously balanced on the arm of his couch among them. Helmet still on. 

He huffed a defeated sigh and wandered into his bedroom to change. While doing so, he dug out his phone. Babs’ contact was way down the list because they hadn’t talked in months, and the last text she’d sent still made him cringe, but he resolutely selected her name anyway.  _ I know you hate me, but I need a favor. _

 

___

 

The evening of the next day he was helping the teens move some donated furniture into the abandoned tower at the old airstrip, which he’d had Barbara buy for an altogether decent price, all things considered. 

“No breaking anything, okay?” He addressed the room at large, two seconds before a very breakable-sounding crash. He sighed. 

“Your little green friend took my blender.” Jason called from somewhere, over sounds of a struggle and some form of animal noise. His tone was dripping with professional disappointment.

“Why are you even still here, and why did you bring a blender?” Dick said, rolling his eyes to the heavens. “Don’t you have your own apartment?”

“Man does not live by Ramen alone,” Jason said offendedly, yanking something decisively out of someone’s grasp. “Besides, I want to watch the shitshow go down when you realize you’re turning into Bruce.”

“No one likes you.” Dick replied maturely.

“....I like him.” Kori piped up from the corner of the ridiculously cramped futon. 

Jason jabbed a finger victoriously in her direction. “See? This redhead has taste.”

Dick sighed. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: autumnhobbit.tumblr.com


End file.
